


Listener, Serving

by folkful



Series: Joar and Viraven being Nasty [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Sex, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Drunk Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, bastard hands so on so forth, drunk author too tbh, no beta we die like men, seriously todd please name the DBI i lay awake at night thinking about this, vira is a hoe all day every day, woow me writing something SSC? what parallell universe have we entered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkful/pseuds/folkful
Summary: The Listener reunites with a trusted friend after a long journey.
Relationships: Original Dunmer Character(s)/Jenassa (implied), Original Dunmer Character(s)/Nazir, Original Dunmer Character(s)/Ronthil (implied), Original Dunmer Character(s)/Vingalmo (implied)
Series: Joar and Viraven being Nasty [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057886
Comments: 104
Kudos: 6





	Listener, Serving

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags! This is by far the least possibly triggering thing I've ever written, but still, do be safe
> 
> This is literally just 3k words of Viraven getting railed but I had my reasons, , , the reasons are "I wanted to write 3k words of Viraven getting railed"  
> Anyway Nazir is great and I love him  
> Also yes Vira killed Cicero without hesitation and I'd do the same, don't @ me
> 
> As always, I encourage comments and reader ideas! Have a nice day broskis
> 
> Edit: I forgot to explain that Vehrumag is a fan-wiki word for cook, there are pretty few actual Dunmeri words in canon so I went for it

Considering his line of work and his appetite for destruction, it was hardly a surprise that Viraven had few trusted friends.

The Thieves' Guild were mostly harmless, but very aware that the Dunmer-turned was not a simple burglar or pickpocket. He intimidated most of them, though there were exceptions - he doubted even the arrival of Mehrunes Dagon would intimidate Vex - and they had every reason to be unnerved. Calling Maven Black-Briar a trusted friend was naive at best and suicidal at worst, and the Volkihar Clan only followed his lead because he'd taken out their former leader. Friends, but not trusted.

What remained, and what was no doubt the nearest thing, was the Brotherhood. Even with the Nord initiates, and the addition of Jenassa, they were nowhere near the prosperity and sense of family they'd had in Falkreath. But him and Babette and Nazir had lived, they had exacted their vengeance in their typical order, and they were closer for it. Even the Emperor could not stand against them, a veritable show of their power.

And Nazir was particularly dear to him.

He had found him attractive from the start, both from his looks and his dry wit, his air of nonchalance. It had not taken long for him to realise the interest was mutual. They were both the kind who knew what they wanted, and neither was particularly shy. So they'd fucked, and then kept fucking, when the chance arose. There were no ulterior feelings involved, just a mutual understanding that this was all there was to it. They were friends, they were associates, and they fucked.

Stepping inside the Dawnstar Sanctuary, the scent of old blood and earthy dust mixed with the scent of the Redguard's characteristic cooking, creating a slightly unpleasant blend. By now, though, Viraven was accustomed to it all, and it felt more welcoming than anything else.

Nazir and Babette greeted him warmly, the only present new initiate reverently, and the Dunmer-turned thought for the hundredth time how much he preferred the first. It was reminiscent of his kin back in Vvardenfell, from before he had come to Skyrim, and frankly, it was refreshing.

Over dinner he did not eat and alto wine he had no interest in drinking, Viraven took the payment for his finished contract in Ivarstead. 

"I have another, if you're interested," said Nazir, in between sips of wine. "Babette is more than set, already."

Taking a contract even while passing through like this was convenient, and a thing he did often, so he was certain Nazir already knew he would agree to it.

"Do tell." Viraven grinned, watching the Redguard's face, the way the light of the fireplace illuminated his beautifully sharp features. A stroke of luck, it was, finding an associate as dark as he was, and as hungry for the strange and the visceral.

"It's a Thalmor Justiciar, in Markarth. The kind who's just begging for a dagger to his neck."

"I'll consider it a public good, then," the Dunmer-turned laughed, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "I'm nothing if not charitable."

"The name is Ondolemar, I'm fairly sure. It's all written down."

They remained there for a while, even after the Nord had quietly excused himself. Nazir was the only one drinking, now well past tipsy. Babette was listening, laughing, picking apart the glowing petals of some Cyrodiilic flower. Viraven was sharpening a blade, mostly to keep his hands occupied with something, more engrossed in conversation than anything else.

Once Babette left them to hunt, though, nocturnal creature that she was, the conversation's tone changed entirely.

There was a comfortable silence in the air, and only the fire lit the room, giving it an aura of dusk that was oddly fitting.

"Would you like to retire for the night, Listener?" asked Nazir, a new lilt to his words, still dry, but with a very familiar, husky undertone. Very rarely did the man refer to him as  _ Listener _ , these days, unless he was propositioning him. In this case, he was very clearly doing so. Viraven set his weapon on the table, a smile gracing his dark lips, all sharp, dangerous teeth.

"I would love to,  _ Vehrumag. _ "

The nickname was a joke, mostly, to counter his own title. He was the Listener, yes, but he and the Mother did not particularly get along, especially after he had disposed of Cicero. Viraven tended to do as he liked. Being a Daedra's champion was easier, in some ways, precisely because they did not tend to speak to him. He took her contracts when they came, or handed them off to someone else, but he truly could not wrap his head around why the jester had been so attached to her. He figured she might be easier to love when she kept her mouth shut.

Nazir pushed away from the table, wearing an expression that Viraven knew well. Obviously drunk, something strangely playful in his dark eyes that made the Dunmer-turned's stomach coil in anticipation. The Redguard was entirely mortal, but when he grinned, he revealed his canines to be sharp nonetheless, as humans' sometimes were. Only small points, nowhere near Viraven's own, but it only served to make him more attractive, in the mer's opinion. It hinted at his dangerous nature, if one bothered to look for it, and he had already known of it, sure, but their sharpness made him look more like a hunter, like a predator.

When he'd paid Mallory to see to the barren shell of Dawnstar Sanctuary, he hadn't figured he'd be getting much use of the chamber he'd set aside for himself. But he'd put the effort in, because he was a creature who enjoyed comfort, and  _ not _ a creature who was precious with his money. As they left the main hall behind, shutting the sheer, red sheet covering the doorway to his room - they had not installed a door - Viraven was glad he'd properly paid for it and not left it a gray, empty husk. The room was nice, though cold and lacking windows, outfitted with a large bed and a messy table, the only part of it Viraven used often. Knowing the Redguard, they'd not get much use of either, at least not until they were sated. 

Almost as soon as they were inside, they were at each other, fondling, kissing, undoing straps in armor, unwinding the fabric of Nazir's hood. Neither of them were in the mood to be meticulous about it, simply discarding the garments, leaving them on the floor. It was clean, anyway. And if it wasn't, they'd both washed worse from their clothes.

Viraven got out of his Brotherhood armor easily - he knew the clasps like the back of his hand, and had often had to change out of it with little time to spare - and so he spent a moment simply watching the other undress. Nazir was quite a bit taller than him, as most men were, almost entirely unscarred, skin smooth and warm-toned brown, like polished wood. The man had a rugged characteristic to him, even though his beard was immaculately kept.

He was staring, but he didn't care, and once the other had stripped off his clothing, Viraven reached down and loosely took hold of Nazir's cock, nestled within a patch of black curls, giving it a mostly gentle but entirely unrepentant tug. He was half stiff already, and the skin of his prick was soft against his palm as he worked to stir him.

Viraven wanted to take his length, the lovely burn it created inside of him. The Redguard's hard flesh was curved up against his stomach, looking absolutely appetizing to the Dunmer-turned's eye. He was a beauty, truly, in every way. Nazir touched him, too, his warm hands trailing over Viraven's cold skin, something possessive over it that made his cock twitch. He did not want to wait for it.

"Just fuck me already…", Viraven said, being cut off by an agressive kiss that stole his breath for a moment.

"I'm gonna take your mouth, first." Nazir's voice was full with wine, his breath much the same, hot against Viraven's neck.

"But are you taking," asked the mer, kneading the solid muscle of the man's shoulders, "or am I giving?"

Both, the answer was, but neither of them were particularly occupied with that. Instead, Viraven sank to his knees on the cold stone floor, still halfway dressed, closing his palm around Nazir's cock again, the silken flesh warm despite the cold night outside. He leaned in, licking a long stripe up the shaft, feeling a minute, impatient tremor go through the Redguard's body, a steady hand settle on his head.

Viraven may have been the one serving, this time, but he held control all the same. Control over the pace, over his fellow Dark Sibling's pleasure. It was just as good this way, in his opinion.

As he took the head into his mouth, tongue circling it, his free hand cradled the other's sack, dexterous fingers toying with it. Their meetings were infrequent, nowadays, and Viraven had every intention to take it at his own pace, to make the most of it. He steadied himself with a hand against Nazir's thigh, still touching and cupping his balls with his other as he began to go down on his length properly. The bottle of alto had left the Redguard impatient, and the Dunmer-turned was pushed further onto it when Nazir put pressure on his head, fingers tangling in his raven-black hair. He swallowed around it, taking him into his throat, welcoming the intrusion. He got a low moan for his effort, drinking the rare noise like it was ambrosia. The Dark Brother was not a particularly loud or vocal lover, but this only made it more rewarding to hear him.

The pressure inside of his throat was immense, but Viraven did not gag or pull away, only let the man fuck his face, eyes growing a little moist from the strain. Nazir had reclaimed the control, and it was something the Dunmer-turned rarely gave up fully, but the idea felt only natural to indulge. He simply sat back on his haunches and let himself be used, looking up at the Redguard all the while, enjoying the lack of regard for himself and the look on Nazir's face. They were both entirely in the moment, caught up in skin against skin and the little sounds coming from Viraven's throat each time the man shoved inside him.

He had always enjoyed doing this, but it was better done with someone like him, the perfect blend of care and lack thereof, not enough to truly harm him, but more than willing to make it hurt.

Nazir hadn't let go of his hair, only wrapped it around his hand, keeping it out of his face, tugging on it hard enough to make Viraven's scalp prickle. When the Redguard eventually pulled the mer off his cock, he did so by his hair, some of the charcoal-coloured tresses falling in front of his eyes. Viraven blinked a few times, drying the moisture from them, his jaw and his throat aching slightly.

He stood up, kissing the spot just above the man's collarbone, sucking down on it, leaving a reddish mark behind. It would be hidden behind his hood, most of the time, but the Dunmer-turned would know it was there, even after he left the Sanctuary again.

Nazir pushed him toward the wall, a devilish glint in his eye. Knowing what he wanted of him, Viraven turned, adjusting his stance, legs open, forehead against the wall. 

"There's oil in the satchel."

The Redguard gave a hum in acknowledgment, and he could hear the rustle of the bag and the clinking of bottles before the man returned, chest against Viraven's back. Then, he felt his first two fingers against him, full of slick, and he jumped slightly at the cold. They slid inside of him easily, and he relaxed himself, making the entry easier. The man spread him open, scissoring his fingers, but he was languid about it, taking his time.

"You don't need to take it slow,  _ Vehrumag, _ " Viraven groaned, pushing back against him. "I want it."

Nazir laughed slightly.

"Oh, but this isn't for you."

"You're a cruel man." The Redguard's fingers reached deep, a gentle pressure to his sweet spot that only served to make him more hungry for it. He sighed and moved back once more, but Nazir would not let him, only pressed their bodies together so he was flush against the wall, nipping and sucking at the Dunmer-turned's neck.

When he  _ finally, finally _ withdrew his fingers, he had Viraven close to the point of begging for it. He would have, happily, and he knew Nazir would have liked it if he did. And when the pressure of fingers were replaced with the warmer, heavier pressure of the man's cock, he breathed a barely legible "thank you".

"How polite," Nazir whispered, mouth against Viraven's neck. He could practically hear the grin in his voice. Then, he thrust for the first time, hard enough to burn in the way that lit the Dunmer-turned's nerves. As he did so, he bit down just where the mer's neck met his back, and Viraven let out a high, keening sound. Involuntary - he had a tendency to be noisy when it was done like this, when he was the one taking cock - but he had no shame and no plan to quell himself. The Nord could almost certainly hear it, and Babette even more so, if she had returned. But the Sanctuary was home to many worse sounds at night.

When Nazir began to fuck him in earnest, Viraven purposefully clenched down, wanting the heat and the fullness to reach deeply. This got a sharp exhale from the Redguard. Viraven reached down, palming at his cock, yearning to feel  _ more,  _ but Nazir took the opportunity away from him, grabbing his hand and holding it up against the wall.

"Greedy." His length stabbed into Viraven hard, and he laid down a smack to his left ass-cheek. I think my cock should be more than enough for you."

He wasn't wrong, but it was still intensely frustrating. His hole was a wet, sloppy mess after the rough fingering, and every thrust made a noise that was so lewd it almost embarrassed him to think the other heard it, too. But Nazir was unbothered, his hands all over Viraven's body, groping at his chest and running his blunt nails down the smooth skin of his back. Suddenly the man pulled his head back, meeting him halfway in another kiss, one forceful enough that their teeth knocked together. Viraven responded in kind, fangs playing with the Redguard's lips, his coarse beard tickling the Dunmer-turned's face. The new angle battered against his sensitive sweet spot, and Nazir had set an almost mercilessly unrelenting pace.

Viraven knew he would be sore from this, that his asshole would be tender for well over the next day. He hoped it would show in his walk, that everyone that saw him would know he had been taken hard. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, more than he would have expected possible when he was first turned by Lord Harkon. 

He was more alive like this than in the battlefield, truly.

Nazir growled low in his throat, almost like a vampire himself, and it stirred something primal inside of him. The next thrust reached deep, and Viraven's body went rigid, feeling his balls twitch and tense up in the first throes of orgasmic contraction.

"Oh, darling, I'm-"

That's as far as he got before cutting himself off with a loud, open-mouthed gasp, coming across his own stomach, and the wall. The Redguard's hand finally closed around his length, jerking him through it, stimulating him from both ends, wringing him out - it felt that way, at least. His other hand closed around his exposed throat, instead, putting pressure on it until it made his head light. It only served to make everything more intense. Nazir kept fucking him through his orgasm, until the sensations were almost numbing, almost painful. It was in every way too much, it hurt, but by the Three, it was fantastic for the moments it lasted, before the man pulled out of him and he felt a hot splash of seed hit his buttocks, running down to the tops of his thighs. He stayed there, panting, letting the Dark Brother spend himself against his skin.

It was the Listener's duty to serve the Brotherhood, after all.

The high faded into a buzz, Viraven's asshole was still throbbing, and he felt satisfied in a way he so rarely did, something that seemed to be entirely unique to their encounters. They all had something different to them, he thought - Vingalmo's sharp and calculated movements, Jenassa's ravenous nature, Ronthil's unwavering obedience, even when it pained him. He'd had sex with associates many times, but even among them, Nazir was special. An opportunist in every sense, one who understood the Dunmer-turned better than most others, who knew just how to make him ache the way he craved. One whose loyalty Viraven barely questioned, even knowing what he knew about the Redguard.

Nazir had told him once during a quiet evening that he would follow him until he was dust in the breeze, devoid of his usual sarcasm, and the mer had found himself believing it.

Perhaps he was just getting soft. But he doubted it.

The Redguard pulled him backward, wrapping his arms around his waist in a gesture that was all too intimate for them, but Viraven did not deny himself the closeness. They flopped onto the bed in the center of the room, Nazir clearly tired out and impulsive from the wine. It wasn't romantic, exactly, but it was fond in a way neither of them expressed while sober.

Viraven slept less, now that he was a vampire, but the prolonged contact of skin, and the familiar hands that had settled on his bare hips, were calming. The other drifted, floating in some state of half-consciousness, and the Dunmer-turned only looked at him, alert but unwilling to move.

He stayed like that for a long while, as Nazir slept off his inebriation, sharing warmth with Viraven that the vampire's body did not create itself. They weren't people with a general tendency toward this kind of casually soft afterglow, both being Dark Siblings with a penchant for dramatic, violent kills, neither with much regard for others' lives. Most of the time, their relationship to each other was led by their dry humor, how comfortable they were discussing both their kills and their darker sexual encounters.

Eventually, though, the heat of the Redguard's skin became cloying. And so Viraven carefully untangled his limbs from the other's, only the alto ensuring he did not wake him. He washed himself only perfunctorily, dipping a handkerchief in the washbasin - the water was old, but clean - wiping the remains of Nazir's come from the backs of his legs and his ass, and his own from his front. Then, he dressed, tightening all the straps on his Brotherhood armor, going through the motions of concealing a small blade for each arm, inside thin sheaths he'd built into the bracers himself.

On his way out, Viraven looked through the contract for the Thalmor. Whoever wanted him dead was paying a hefty price for it, so he expected (and hoped) Ondolemar would put up a proper fight. It was only fun to kill Thalmor if he could properly bring them to their knees first.

At the top of the stone stairs, Babette was watching him, the look on her face knowing and mildly disgusted. Ah. So she had definitely returned in time to hear them. He greeted her with little care for that fact, and she smoothed down her alchemist's apron.

"Next time, keep it down." She sounded slightly grumpy, more than anything else, not truly upset by it. "Are you leaving again?"

"Yeah." He stopped next to her, back leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Babette threw something his way, a small, slim glass bottle.

"Test this while you're out, then. I'm fairly sure it'll make you fire resistant, but it might just set you alight instead."

"Oh? Reassuring." Viraven snorted, letting the new potion join the others in his satchel.

"Good hunting, Brother." With that, Babette stood. Viraven was hardly a tall mer, but she was barely at height with his chest. She spun on her heel, making her way over to the area opposite the Mother's coffin, the steel-enforced heels of her small shoes clacking against the floor.

When Viraven finally opened the hatch at the end of the tunnel, the cold air of Dawnstar hit him immediately.

By Azura, he hated the north.

**Author's Note:**

> The image of Babette in steel-toed Mary Janes is now imprinted in my brain


End file.
